


Seducing You

by Roofie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 8x04, F/M, Lemons, NSFW, Post The Long Night, citrus, it's just fucking porn alright?, pr0ns, wham bam thank you ma'am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-23 17:37:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19155748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roofie/pseuds/Roofie
Summary: She pulled back, and he couldn't move - it was like he had forgotten how to. For some reason that meant she was just going to try again! Both hands on his cheeks this time, she kissed him, trying to lick at his lips – and all of a sudden he remembered how to move and the chair under him was screeching backwards and he was too. Putting space between him and this mad wench in front of him.“What the fuck are you doing?!” He hated the fact that he had squeaked it.The Stark girl stood with one hand out as though his face were still crushed against hers, and replied calmly, “Seducing you.”





	1. The First Five

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S FILTH! I WROTE FILTH. BYE!

Clegane had taken up a comfortable high-back chair by the fireplace in the library, supping from his cup. After he had gotten to see the steel in Little Bird he decided enough was enough with the rabble. He didn't much care for the racket they were making, and none of them were his friends. He didn't have any friends. Not really.

Getting deeper into his ale, he found himself stuck on the thought of the Starks, the girls, and how he was proud of them, in his angry brutish way. They had learned. He hated that they had to learn it, but they had learned – and it hadn't killed them. It had made them something else. Arya could slit his throat, he had no doubts, and so could Sansa in her own ways. They were formidable, and he found himself admiring them.

He watched the embers of the fire trundle away in the dark, and he was thinking he'd be throwing another fucking log on soon when he heard the door just out of view swing open.  
  
“For fuck sake,” He growled loud enough for whoever was invading his space to hear, “I wanted some peace and quiet!”

 Leaning around his chair, his snarl quickly vanished as he saw Sansa wander in, carrying her cup. She stopped to look at him coolly, then continued her trip across the stones.

 “My rooms are through here.” A simple statement, sipping her wine she quickly approached.

The Hound nodded and went back to looking at the fire, expecting to hear her footsteps pass behind and then out again. They didn't, so after a beat he rocked forward to see her stood beside his chair watching the embers with him. She looked... was it sad? It wasn't so easy to tell any more, maybe she just needed a shit. He scoffed at himself, and her eyes drifted to him with a wan smile. It was a pretty, but tired expression, and it made him nervous. He still wasn't used to her _looking at him_. It made him feel every bit as ugly as he knew he was. So he turned away and waited....  
  
And waited.

The silence deafened, but he'd be damned if he was going to be the one to break it. He ultimately, gingerly, tossed another log on the fire to break his own tension.

“Would you have been gentle?” She finally spoke, and it was just as fucking confusing as her presence.

 With knotted eyebrows he turned to look at her, he hoped in a way that implied she may be mad, but she was looking at the fire again.

 “Joffrey had me beaten, Ramsay tore at me-” Her voice was inappropriately jovial even though she could not finish the thought, she sipped her drink and his eyes widened only a little, “Would you have been gentle, then?”

 Clegane was dumbfounded. What was she asking? How would _he_ have fucked her different? Was he dead drunk and dreaming? He pulled at his beard harshly, not sure if he wanted it to hurt or not. It did hurt. He swallowed. Then her eyes met with his again, and he realised she _expected an actual answer._

“No.” As flabbergasted as he was, he wasn't going to fucking _lie_ , “But I wouldn't've hurt ya!”

Sansa nodded, her eyes leaving him again as she took steps around his chair and approached the hearth. He had, in his utter discomfort, forgotten it was actually cold in Winterfell. So he watched her drink and warm herself... she was _beautiful_. And then stopped watching her, because it felt wrong to be doing so. He thought about leaving. The expression on her face was distant, and he regretted the entire evening, cursed his crass mouth. It was clear he'd hit a raw nerve and now she was stewing in horrors – that was _his_ fault. He put his cup down on the table beside him and made to rise when she turned to look at him _again_. Right at his face. And gods help him, he shied into his seat like a child.

He'd be damned if he wouldn't meet her gaze, but he could feel the bile made of shame rising as he did. He never wanted to lash out at her – but she was working a nerve he had little control over with that _stare_. She closed the gap between them, never taking her eyes from his, and placed her cup next to his own. He recoiled as that same hand then casually came up to touch his cheek. Her responding tut stilled him immediately and he just looked up at her mortified. Her fingers touched the places that were scarred, and mottled. Seen _worse_ than him, she had said. She pushed back hair to expose more cheek than he ever cared to show, the remains of his ear... He could only just feel it, her gentle fingers, and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Her face was fucking inscrutable. There was no disgust, no rejection, not even curiosity. Just... looking, feeling. He wanted to run away and cry. Like a babby. The attention sickened him, and soothed him all at once, and he didn't know what to do about it. Then abruptly she bent down and pushed her lips against his and he almost choked on her.

She pulled back, and he couldn't move - it was like he had forgotten how to. For some reason that meant she was just going to try again! Both hands on his cheeks this time, she kissed him, and tried ever so quickly to lick at his lips. All of a sudden he remembered how to move and the chair under him was screeching backwards. He was too. Putting space between him and this mad _wench_ in front of him.

 “What the fuck are you _doing_?!” He hated the fact that he had _squeaked_ it.

The Stark girl stood with one hand out as though his face were still crushed against hers, and replied calmly, “Seducing you.”

He balked.

“You're too into your cups...” That was it! Drunk, she was _drunk_. He took a further step back, towards what he hoped would be a door. Only off her skull on spirits would his Little Bird ever act like this with someone like _him_.

“Not that much.” She shrugged, pursuing him – back in his space faster than he could think and breathing in the same air, he could almost count her eyelashes.

“I thought you were sniffing after that Greyjoy- prickless wonder...” He grasped at something cruel to make her stop as he stumbled away.  
  
“He's dead...” It worked a little, but he regretted it immediately - the sadness that touched her eyes was far worse than that insane, was it hungry? stare.  
  
“Oh, so I'm second best? Is that-” Why can't he ever stop his lumbering mouth?! His back hit a surface and looking up he miserably realised it was a bookshelf, and not a door.  
  
“Sandor.” His words dried up immediately, his mouth slacking – to hear his name said so... even in exasperation, “Just stop blathering and kiss me.”

Nose to nose, her hand gripped the collar of his doublet, waiting for him to do it this time. To just... kiss her! Like that was even a possibility! But.. hadn't he dreamt of this? When he had finally seen her as a woman, full grown, hadn't he thought about rucking up her skirts and feasting on her pussy? Sure, but he'd had the good sense to know it wouldn't happen! That it was some dream to share with his hand! Not once had he considered- Then she sighed in frustration and pulled his mouth down to meet hers.

She was tall enough, he barely had to bend, but she was still so sleight her lips were like flutters. Hands balled at his sides, he just let her do it. It would get it out of her system and then she could go back to being sober and disgusted like everyone else. Her breath smelt like fruit-

She pulled away and thumped his chest, his hands instinctively came up to hold her arms still.

“Kiss me!” She hissed, and she sounded like she would cry, taking in her expression he recognised the look in her eye.  
  
It was a fear he knew deep in his soul, so deep that he did actually kiss her. He kissed her so hard she almost buckled backwards under his sudden response. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her in. He _never_ wanted to see the fear of rejection on her face ever again, not as long as he lived. He kissed her so hard their teeth clacked.

Hoisting her up against his body, and off her feet, he turned them quickly down into the library stack and out of view of either doorway. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he pushed her up against the books. Her kisses were flutters, but his weren't and he pressed his tongue into her mouth as roughly as he expected of himself. She squeaked, sliding her own against his. She was unsure of herself now, he'd done something she didn't know. Ramsay never gave her the tongue then-

Growling he dropped her and stepped back. Why did he think that? Why did that _bastard_ have to come into his head like that? He was so angry at himself he hardly noticed her clutching her chest, catching her breath. He glanced at her flushed face and snarled, but that just made her close the gap and clamber back up his doublet with her hands – back to his face. She kissed harder this time, now that she knew she could.

Her fingers going to the ties in his doublet, he pulled at her skirts until he could feel her ass through her bloomers. Her breath caught as he squeezed a little too roughly to be pleasant. She bit his lip for it and he felt all of his blood rush south. Bit of wolf in her, then.  
  
“Where are your rooms?” He growled against her teeth.

“Follow-” She breathed as he pushed her away, both their chests heaving.

She took off quickly and he did follow, like a beast in heat. When she pulled the door of the library open onto an empty hall Sandor yanked her hips into his and ground a little. She made the strangest noise and blushed, practically skittering away down the corridor - him in close pursuit. He wanted her clothes off already, he felt like a young man ready to rut.

He threw her long hair in front of her shoulder as they strode, his chest banging against her back - his strides were longer, unhindered by a skirt. He worked on the knots of her dress, undoing them deftly. He knew how to get armour off of a soldier at a full run, he could get a girl out of her dress. The leather bodice came off, as did the sleeves, and he shoved it into her hands as he gnawed at her neck and she whimpered. They turned a corner and he pressed her face-first against a wall. He didn't hurt her. He would never hurt her. But he ran his hands over the fabric he had exposed of her clothes. He kneaded her chest, and rubbed at her crotch. She was so warm!

 “Second-” She whispered desperately, trying to point, “Second on the left!”

Slipping away only because he let her, Sansa practically ran to the door, fumbling for her key when she got there. He watched how she was flustered, eyes shooting to him, was she frightened? He put a hand to her throat and pulled her to his face, and kissed her – differently. It wasn't gentle, he didn't know how to be _gentle_ , but it was calmer, deliberately slow. He dug his nails into her neck and felt her adams-apple struggle, then let go. She whistled out a breath, clutching her bodice and the key to her chest. He took the key and opened the door, undoing the last few knots of his doublet as she scurried inside. Like cat and mouse, he grinned, stepping in and locking it behind them.

There was a large, fine bed, a roaring fireplace, some chairs by the hearth, a desk covered in papers, two doors; the one they had just come in through, and one other. It was the first time he had seen her room, it was simpler than her one at Kings Landing. More furs. Fuck the furs! He turned on her, still hovering by the door gripping her bodice like a child's toy. She was staring at him, eyes wider than he had ever seen them.  
  
“Do I-” She licked her lips, “Do we go to the bed?”  
  
Sandor rolled his eyes at that, she didn't know what the fuck she was doing, did she? Well- he did! And he wanted her everywhere, not just on a fucking bed.  
  
“Take your damned boots off.” He ordered, pulling his doublet and shirt over his head in one quick motion and tossing them aside.  
  
He worked on the knots of his trousers as she dropped the bodice like it was made of hot coals and hiked up her skirt to get rid of her boots. She just managed to do so as he toed his own off and pushed her back against the wall by the door. He kissed her lips, he kissed her neck, he kissed her chest through the loose fabric, then he dropped to his knees and threw her skirt up over his head.

 “Sandor?!” She laughed as he yanked down her bloomers, smacking her feet to step fully out of them - she would soon stop laughing.  
  
“Use the wall if you gotta, for balance.” And without further warning, Sandor pulled her thigh up over his shoulder and went to work on her cunt.

Clegane licked in one long fluid motion, and he felt her whole body quake. The noise she made was astoundingly guttural. He was hard as a stone – but he wanted to see her come a dozen times before he did. He rubbed his face against her thighs and she tried to grip his head through the skirt. He lapped at her as she wiggled, her foot kicked his pock-marked back and he bared his teeth against her skin.  
  
“I'm wearing too many clothes-” He barely heard her whimper to herself, as he found her clit and licked in a hard circle.  
  
She actually screeched at that and he came out from under the skirt.  
  
“Shut it!” He hissed, if he was caught doing this he would likely get done for _raping_ the Lady of Winterfell – even if she was entirely happy with his attention.

The girl pulled the skirt up to her mouth and shoved it in herself, yanking at the knots around her neck as she did so. He went back to working her pussy as best he could whilst she struggled out of her dress, grinding against his nose as she did so. He grabbed her ass and squeezed, then travelled down to her thighs and tried to spread them further. She tasted like warmth, and wash, and woman. He felt rather than saw the fabric of her dress fall away. Glancing up, she was now biting down on her own hand as a gag. Her chest bare... and mottled? Too distracted to think about that right then, he yanked both her legs over his shoulders – supporting her entire weight as he ate.

One of Sansa's hands gripped at the mess of his hair, the other supporting her against the wall, her eyes closed – enraptured. He held her crotch to his face by the ass with one hand, the other working its way up to a tit and thumbing over a teat. Her climax started in the muscles of her stomach, and worked its way down to her pussy, then out through her thighs - curling her toes. She nearly choked on her own fingers to keep from wailing, and he just wanted more of it – more and more.

Clegane dropped her to her feet, she was unsteady on them. Standing up, she desperately kissed at his mouth. He pressed his tongue against hers, hoping she would taste her own womanhood. The noise she made, made him think that perhaps she had. Then she was trying to pull him towards the bed by the string of his pants, and he growled.  
  
“I don't want you there-”  
  
“But?”  
  
He span her around, intending to push her a different way, but was stopped short by what he saw on her back. Torn skin, mutilated sinew, bite marks that would have drawn blood and hurt her incredibly. He gripped her shoulder and, with the only gentle gesture he could manage, pushed her now dishevelled hair carefully away to get a better look. It was a pattern of torture! Whippings, slashes, twists and burns. If Ramsay Bolton were alive today, The Hound would snap his neck and tear his head off with his bare-

Sansa's fingers came up to hold his hand against her collar bone as he rubbed the scars, as though trying to make them fade. She took a heaving breath, and he felt her harden as her head straightened. Without seeing her face, he knew she was putting on the look of the cool and calculated Lady Stark and not his Little Bird. Her mask, her armour, her protection.  
  
“Sandor, will you still fuck me?” She was expecting a no?  
  
“Oh, I'll fuck you.” He muttered, pushing her towards the desk and now pointedly away from the bed (where he suspected she was focusing her attention because that was where it had happened before), “I'll fuck you deep.”

The way he could man-handle her bothered him some, he needed to teach her how to fight back. He was here by invitation, but not everyone was so kind – as she knew well. Nothing as rough as him, something quick and deadly – something better than a swift knee to the balls. Maybe with that needle she wore on her dresses. It might not help her, a determined monster will always have his way, but it could kill off the smaller ones.

Her thighs collided with the side of her desk and she grunted, that would likely bruise, but she didn't complain. Instead she started chucking papers onto the floor hectically. Sandor pushed her chest flush against the wood and traced his tongue down her back, circling marks and treasuring her skin. He spread her legs with one hand, and she trembled as he travelled. Reaching her ass with his mouth she twisted around to look at him. He crouched, and she was about to speak when he pushed a finger into her pussy - her mouth went agape with wonder. He went in and out a few times with the one digit, before adding another. Sansa smacked the desk with an open palm, biting her lips together.

She was a river, but he wanted her even wetter, finding her clit with his thumb. She violently hitched back with her hips against his hand and whinnied so loud he hissed. Grabbing a spare bit of parchment she screwed it up and shoved it into her own mouth. He kept working as he rose back over her, and wiggled his hips unceremoniously to dislodge his pants. They fell to the floor and he kicked them aside. He missed Sansa's eyes grow wide at the sight. One or two girls in the brothels had told him he ran larger than most, but he'd never spent time looking at other men's cocks to compare.  
  
Reaching out he pulled at her hair, forcing her back to arch as she bucked into his hand over and over. He saw her back ripple before her pussy clenched hard over his fingers, and her legs buckled against the table. Quickly his digits withdrew, and in one fluid push he stuck his prick inside her instead and, _Gods_ , she _moaned_. The paper falling out of her mouth, she moaned so _low_ and for as long as it took him to work his way up to the hilt. Her back arched towards him with every inch until she was almost stood upright. He did not rush, he closed his eyes to stop them from rolling.  
  
Sandor wrapped his arm around her chest, under her bosom, and held her there as she twitched around his cock. She was tight, and warm, and still pulsing from the orgasm he gave her - he wanted to cry about it. His other hand came to her throat as he rested his head against her shoulder blade. Sansa twisted her own fingers with those at her neck as she gulped in air. Slowly he withdrew his dick from her, her body moved like a wave under his hands. He felt her exhale a long breath he wasn't sure she knew she'd been holding. He drove back in much quicker, and her whole body bounced.  
  
“Uh-” Was the hazy sound she made as he bottomed out sharply, her fingers tightening over his.  
  
He did it again. Same sound. Sandor dug his teeth into her shoulder and squeezed her neck. Did it again. Same sound, only... strangled, obviously. It was a _fantastic_ sound. Almost like she wasn't there, like he'd took her somewhere different.  
  
Waiting, he kissed her neck and felt under his palm how she swallowed - hard. He watched her spare hand move to the edge of the desk so she could find the strength to grind down on him. He let her do it, observing her giving up on the desk and just trying to find her own clit with unpractised hands.  
  
“Good girl.” He whispered, stepping back only so she could have more space between her hand and the desk. He did not withdraw.  
  
He knew when she found it by the way she circled her hips into him. He took a breast in his hand and put pressure on her throat as he thrust with the rhythm _she_ was setting. The sound she made now was longer and more languid, like he was stroking something in her that had never been stroked before. The orgasm she had doing this was small, and short lived, but she got herself there. It felt incredible around him, but he could take this one. He was older, he knew how to hold his come. She rested her head back against his chest and gulped, eyes closed tight. Her hand came up from her pussy and she licked it curiously, then she put this hand with the others at her throat, and squeezed his knuckles.  
  
“Harder-” She whispered. He obliged.

 Pressing her thighs back against the wood, he set his own pace this time. It was rougher and faster than hers, and he clamped down on her throat for several strokes at a time. Whenever _she_ squeezed, after all, _he_ squeezed. He released her breast so that he could work her cunt with his fingers while he fucked her. The orgasm that came from his heavy hands was better, and it almost got him there too, the clenching was so strong. He let her throat go, and she collapsed forward onto the table. He was ready for his own release now, so he pulled her back harshly over and over – and with his hands away from her neck she got louder as he did. So, he reached forward and drove his fingers into her mouth, she licked at them desperately. Could he get her to come again? He wondered.

Fingers still wet from her juices, he circled her ass-hole and pushed. She bit down on his fingers and arched, but then bucked back against him. Up to the second knuckle, he tried to pace the rhythm of his hand to oppose that of his cock, and she did not tell him to stop. Soon he was working with two fingers, and he could feel his end coming on hard and tight. He saw her back ripple again before it came down tight over his cock and he followed in two thrusts. His chest tight and his crotch alight. His whole weight came down on top of her on the table, hairy chest to bare back. They breathed harshly as she released his fingers from her bite. Neither of them was sure how long they spent pressed like that, heaving for air, skin to skin. But when he finally pulled out and way from her she whimpered.  
  
He stumbled over to one of the chairs by the hearth and sat. She stayed lying against the desk utterly devoid of thought.  
  
“We're not done yet.” He stated, matter of factly.  
 

 


	2. And Five More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THAT'S YOUR LOT. I HAVEN'T PROOF READ SHIT. I'LL DO IT IN THE MORNING.
> 
> I DON'T THINK THIS ONE WILL BE FOR EVERYONE.
> 
> BUT IT RUSTLED MY JIMMIE'S
> 
> SO SEE YA!
> 
> ~edit~
> 
> IT'S PROOF READ NOW. CIAO!

Clegane studied his bloody fingers in the firelight, his Little Bird's teeth marks where she had broken the skin. Scoffing, he loudly pulled the chair round to face her bare ass as she lay across the table, breathing heavily.  
  
“I said I wouldn't hurt you, but that didn't mean you could go and fucking hurt me.” He waved at her collapsed form, the words felt like cotton on his tongue.  
  
When she didn't really respond, he glanced down at his naked body. Legs parted and prick flaccid, he looked _old_ , and he let out a breath so shaky it frightened him. Seemed to wake Sansa up too, because she rolled herself over with great effort, to rise up onto her elbows and look at him. It wasn't an elegant pose, not in the least, he could see straight up to the lips of her sloppy cunt and the way it was dripping on the stones. Heat gathered at his limp crotch – that was _his seed_ doing the dripping. His skin buzzed, but dread was pitting in his stomach.

She was just _looking_ at him again.

He met her gaze, because he always would, but that utterly indefinable stare- he could hardly stand it. Without blinking, Sansa reached down to take some of his seed on her fingers and put it in her mouth. He choked, and had to look away, he was half hard again already and his head hurt to just look at her. She was akin to a goddess, shameless and _burning_.  
  
What had they _done_? What had _he_ done? He rubbed his forehead with the butt of his hand and his breath hitched all over again. What had _she_ done? He felt almost sick from the overwhelming _guilt_ of it.

“The Gods have damned me.” He whispered.

Toes. They tapped over the stones to him, and he leaned back as her naked body entered his space. Her fingers reached out to touch his furrowed brows.  
  
“Why _me_ , Little Bird?” He groaned, his hands rising up to hold her hips – keeping her at a distance. He felt like he was begging for something, “Why _this_?”

Sansa studied him for a while, but he could tell she was also studying herself. Watching her think was a pleasure he didn't feel he should be having. She stepped closer. His chin came to rest against her breasts and he beheld her wondrously calm face.  
  
“With you...” She kissed his good eye, and then his not-so-good one, “I'm _safe_.”

A font of emotions welled up unexpectedly, and he found himself blinking back tears.

“Well of course you bloody are!” His voice broke as she gently sat atop one of his legs, resting a hand at his waist – he thought only distantly that she was still dripping, “This- this _old fool_ would never-”

Sandor tried to breathe calmly as she kept kissing at his cheeks, his eyes, his tears. Eventually he felt ready enough to bring his mouth up to meet hers, and her tongue slipped between his lips to run a length behind his teeth. It felt like the noise he made started somewhere in his stomach, though it certainly came out of his mouth. Her fingers played with the hair on his chest, as he let his tongue slide against hers – breathing deep of her. Like a feather, her hand fell from side to side; working its way over his nipples, down to his abs, into his crotch-  
  
He didn't mean to bare his teeth so harshly when he felt her warm fingers curl around his cock. Shocked himself further when he opened his eyes and realised his bitten hand had shot up to her neck. Her face, though- her _face_. She was _smiling._ This lazy, hazy, grin spreading as she began to pump his semi-softness.

The hand Sansa had slipped against his waist came up to pull his grip away from her throat. She led him to her breasts, and for the first time he actually _looked_ at them. They... they were a _ruin_ . Just as disfigured as the back of her, just as hurt as _him_ . The trail of blood his fingers left upon them was- well it was- _Lovely_ , he thought, and kissed them. Sansa's sigh was like music. Her head lolled back with pleasure as she continued to work away at his growing hardness.

“Tighter.” He instructed quietly, she did as asked and he moaned thankfully against her.

Stroking her back with one hand, kneading her teat with the other, Clegane showered her chest with an affection he did not know he was capable of - licking at her like something starved. He worked with her for an eternity, her hips gyrating against his thigh.

“Sandor?” She eventually whined, and though he wasn't at 'full mast' from her ministrations yet it would be enough to get them started.  
  
Scooting his bare ass forward in his seat, and perching near the edge of it, he pushed her off of his leg and onto her feet. Turning her back to him, he kissed at her broken skin a few times whilst reaching around to pull her ass towards him, pointedly by the crotch. He ran a hand against her slit to make sure she was still wet enough (she was) and then, leaning back, he encouraged her to take a fucking _seat_.

 _Her_ hand led him in, as he spread his own thighs wide for her. That same low, _long_ moan came out as she slowly took in his entire length. And by the God's! Was this tighter than before? He gripped the arms of the chair and closed his eyes. He was certainly hard enough _now_. As she bottomed out her ass ground against his pelvis, and he spat out the breath he'd been holding. Sandor's hips bucked whether he wanted them to or not and she hitched forward away from him with a pleasured groan. He resisted the instinct to lurch forward and yank her back – to take her roughly again. He didn't want this one to be that kind of fuck.

Sansa gripped his knees as she lowered herself again, her back spasmodic as she filled herself with his cock at a steady rhythm - over and over. It was slow and though they both were breathing heavy, they were not laboured. At least... not until she came off of him completely. He almost whimpered at the loss of her heat, but then he was agape as she engulfed him once more; _slow and low_ – that same _gorgeous_ moan giving him goose-flesh. Biting his lip, he found himself gripping at her hips – tight enough to send her pink skin white. And she did it again! The sensation of her tight, luxurious warmth leaving him, and then slowly wrapping him again – the sound of her guttural ecstatic moan - it caused him to crack his head on the back of his seat.

“By the Gods, woman!”

She laughed at that, and he felt his eyes roll uncontrollably under closed lids. The sensation was incredible, almost like her orgasm - _all over him_. She rose off and fell – the drop slowly becoming quicker and harder the more she went along. It was maddening. Sometimes she would grind her hips into his crotch when she hit bottom, and he couldn't breathe. She was getting quicker and quicker, her breath hitching – was she close? He reached around to tease her clit with his fingers – help her along – but her hand shot to his and held it. She set the pace, directed his digits, and it was slow. Her last few drops and grinds were like stroking a cat, and she almost sounded like a feline when she came. It was magnificent, her back rolling up as it hit her pussy, clamped down around his dick... leaving slowly. It was mind-boggling – but he hadn't found his own release in it and, Gods help him, he wanted to.

Sandor did not wait for her orgasm to fully end as he scooped up her legs, pulling them to her chest. He scooted back in his chair only slightly, so's not to fall out of it, and began lifting and dropping her whole body at a pace that made her squeal. Her hands flailed, and rather than her clenching climax subsiding, it just persisted. She was so _loud_ , but there was nothing to stop her exaltations with his hands taking all of her weight – and Clegane _needed_ to finish. Their flesh smacked together wetly, noisily, until he was on his verge. When he came inside her for the second time, choking against her torso, she clapped her hands to her mouth to hold in a scream.  
  
Arms shaking, he held her against his chest in this strange ball he'd made of her until his dick dropped out with a rather unseemly sound he didn't really want to think about. Her breathing was ragged, worse than his, and her whole body quaked uncontrollably. His mind took him straight to worry. Had that been too much?  
  
“Are you alright?” He mumbled, his tongue like lead, “Did I hurt-”  
  
“No.” She did not let him finish the question, “M- more.”  
  
He dropped her like a stone onto the floor. He didn't mean to. He just- Wasn't she spent? He felt like he was. But she was scrambling up off of her ass, onto her feet, and heading towards the bed like someone was chasing her.  
  
“I'm not fucking you on that thing!” He snapped, but almost as though she had read his mind, and nodding practically in agreement she scooped up as many of the furs and blankets from her mattress as she could and chucked them on the floor.  
  
“No bed.” She was shaking like a fucking leaf. “Just- just _more_.”

Clegane didn't entirely trust his legs to carry him to her, so he slid out of his chair and onto the floor. He crawled clumsily over, resting his ass on his feet in the middle of her bed covers. Stepping up to him, hair stuck to her face with sweat, she leant down and kissed him. He sucked at her bottom lip as she slipped down onto his lap, straddling him. He wouldn't be ready for some time now, so they kissed, and bit and pulled at each other – trying to find the spots that worked. She found one on his lower back that made him shiver, he found he could cause goose-flesh if he nibbled on her ear. He wondered what else she might like. She'd not said no to his fingers before...

As he lay languid kisses along her neck he ventured it; “There's something we could try,” his hands went down to her ass, kneading, “it'll smart at first...” he circled her ass-hole with a thumb and she shivered, “but you might like it.”  
  
He pushed in to punctuate the point and she pressed her chest up against his skin and squirmed. He kissed at her breasts but kept working behind, swapping his thumb for a finger. She instinctively rose away from his advancement, but did not cry halt as he pushed inside as slowly as his prick had her pussy the first time. He brought his other hand round and began working her cunt, wet as it was, he would need her to stay that way. Slowly, he went and added a second digit. She bit at his shoulder – this was the _quietest_ she had been.

“Lie down.” He instructed, pushing her out of his lap as he turned his hand to his own softness for a moment. He was nowhere near ready, which didn't bother him – he needed the time to get her open.

Sansa fell back onto the furs quickly, opening her legs as he slunk forwards to lie between them.

“You cry off if you need to, y'hear?” She nodded.

Hooking one of her legs over his arm, he placed his hand on her belly. He pushed her other leg farther away, making as much space as he could – then started licking. Beginning with her pussy, he drove his tongue inside her and tasted himself mingled in. He felt her writhe, wanting to bring her legs in, but he held them apart and twisted a finger fully into her soaking hole. He stroked and pumped for some time, watching her juices slowly slide down to where it would matter. He could feel himself hardening just enjoying his time.

When he thought he had done enough there, he came back up to sit on his knees. Sansa moaned at his abandonment only for an instant, as he roughly pulled her crotch up to his face and entirely off of the ground. She was practically upside-down in this position, but it gave him the access he needed. Working himself with one hand and holding her up with the other, he circled her ass-hole with his tongue. She gasped, as much as she could in this topsy-turvy way of being held, and he enjoyed the way her legs wobbled around his cheeks. He dipped his tongue in, over and over, and her breath hitched at every other interval.

Dropping her back down he perched his body over her, stroking her hair from her face. Abandoning his half-hard cock, he brought his other hand to her pussy, gathered as much of her juices as he could then pushed his finger into her ass as far as it would go. Her back arched and she hissed – it wasn't comfortable – but she didn't cry off. He pushed his thumb between the lips of her pussy, encouraging the flow downward as best he could. He pulled out only a little, then pushed back in slowly. She didn't hiss this time, but her eyes closed as her mouth clamped shut.  
  
“You _have_ to relax.” He whispered into her ear and he saw her gulp.

He took his time here, kissing her mouth to distract her as his finger curved in and out. He played at fencing with her tongue as he gradually worked in a second finger and, though she made a strained sound, her hand came to his arm and gripped it – encouraging. Heat made its way to his crotch, he would be ready soon. And it was his third finger that got the greatest reaction.

Sandor wasn't sure at first, because it didn't start in her stomach like the others had – instead it came from her ass-cheeks and her thighs – but there was no doubt, she had orgasmed over his fingers. She had not wailed, or moaned, or made much of any noise at all; she just arched up off the furs, groping at the air. Her pupils had blown, and then she collapsed as he pulled out of her.  
  
Clegane was pleased to see he had found his erection just in time to use it. Slowly, thoughtfully, he rubbed it along her cunt. Licking his hand, he rubbed at his cock – it needed to be as slick as he could make it. For some time he just rocked against her, picking up as much of her wetness as he could, adding his own from his mouth. She rolled her hips to match him, sighing at the sensation. With a final licking kiss at her lips, Sandor pulled away, falling back into that damned kneeling pose which his knees would not thank him for later. Positioning her ass up against his cock, he paused.

Taking her hands he watched her watch him, her lips still tight together. She nodded. Tightening his grip on her palms he pulled. Her entrance resisted for a moment, but then it released and he was inside. He gritted his teeth, it was _so_ _fucking tight_. Her gasp was sharp and her whole body went rigid. Her legs straightened, trying to push away – but he had her hands – so he kept pulling. He went at a snails pace, as a whine rose in Sansa's throat. When he'd made it only half way, he stopped. His dick was pulsing with his own heart beat buried in the vice of her flesh.  
  
Releasing one of her hands, which went straight to her head to cover her eyes, Sandor knew he needed to get her to loosen up. It wouldn't ever feel good if she stayed as stiff as a plank. So, like many times that night, he went to work on her cunt. His whole hand rubbed at it, kneading her nub then sliding across her lips, he would press in too. The rush had gone out of him by now, so this took as long as it took. Eventually her legs sagged, and she let her hand drop away from her face. He fingered her proper then, thumb on the nervy part. By and by, her hips started to work with him; ever so slowly, side to side, back and forth, until she started to press down on his cock a little further. Not wanting to move too fast or too soon, he just kept teasing. Letting go of her other hand, he decided to support her hips instead.

Sansa's hands knotted into the fur as she dug her feet in and raised her hips up to take in more of him. She groaned through it, throat exposed, Sandor wanted nothing more than to push his mouth down on her jugular. If her legs shook, she would pause, but as Clegane kept up his attentions he soon found himself fully sheathed. Astounded, his head felt heavy, dizzy even; buried where he was he could hardly fathom the sensation.

He only let them sit like that for a moment before he pushed her hips back and away. It was like she had forgotten how to breathe as his cock slowly emerged, and then she definitely forgot how as he carefully pushed back in. Bottoming out, he shook his head to clear the spots in his eyes.

“Fucking-” She gritted her teeth, “Shit!”  
  
“We can stop.” He grunted thickly, and even began to try and pull out, it had been a bad idea-  
  
“No!” She snapped, her wide eyes on him as she clenched her teeth and gripped the furs, “It's incredible!”

Her head dropped back to the ground heavily as she rose her own hips and drove back down onto him harder than he had expected her to. She choked on it. Whined as she pulled away, then pushed back down. Dumbfounded, he watched her do the same thing twice more before he took control of her hips and bucked hard up into her.  
  
“Ag-” was the small, muted and throttled sound she made this time, over and over again as he drilled.  
  
She writhed and shifted, ground her hips when she could, but she didn't – or perhaps couldn't – make a louder sound. It was as though the voice had been fucked out of her. Sandor didn't really notice that he was the one who had taken to grunting and moaning as he fucked her. Her orgasm came as a surprise to them both, starting in her legs again – causing them to curve upwards into a position that was fetal. Her whole body convulsed and she sobbed against her hand. His cock was squeezed so hard his vision blurred, and if he'd been close he would have gone over with her. Her chest heaved and Sandor waited for her to still before making to pull out.  
  
“No!” She had snarled, slamming her ass down and clawing her way up into his lap - still filled with his prick to the hilt, “Finish- f-finish-”  
  
Kissing him hungrily she rose and fell, ground and wiggled, Sandor gulped around her tongue. Her wobbly legs and slender frame meant there wasn't much weight to her pumping now. For him to 'finish', she wasn't going hard enough! So, he rolled forward, crushing her body against the furs, and ground into her hips himself. He felt her legs come up behind him, and he expected them to wrap around his back, but as he worked his fingers down for this last time to her thatch, he realised she had grabbed hold of her own feet.

“Just fuh-uck me.” She hissed, and he did.

One hand on her ass and the other 4 fingers palm deep in her cunt, he fucked her and sucked her. He bit at her nipples and slapped their flesh together, increasing the pace of his fingers to something maddening when he felt his own climax rising. Her thighs started quaking, her knees pulling down towards her chest as she yanked on her own feet. His astounded groan matched her own as they came together. Black spots in his eyes - he thought he may, just for a moment, have _died_.  
  
His body smacked down on top of hers, and she finally wrapped her legs around him as her arms hugged his neck. She kissed him, little ones, kisses all over his nose and his eyebrows. Once he caught his breath, Sandor rose up away from her, withdrawing his soft member from her warmth. He grabbed the last fur and sheets from the fucking _bed_ above them and threw them over his shoulders. Pressing back down. It was warm under here, and perhaps she would let him sleep for a while.

The kisses they shared in the dark of the furs were long and languid and loving. He fell asleep between her legs.

 


	3. Addendum - The Last Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT THERE WAS ONE MORE
> 
> I'M DONE NOW.
> 
> BOG OFF :P

He came to at some point in the night just to roll off of her. He didn't go far. He didn't want to. Pulling her flush against his side, he kissed her forehead and nuzzled her neck. Her eyes remained shut, but she stroked up the length of his arm, settling a palm against his cheek. Sleep claimed him again for some time. He dreamt of humid, sweaty places, and her heavy breathing in his ear. He dreamt of her face as she came.

Sandor woke up _hard._ The room was dark, the fire having finally burnt itself out. Only a sliver of pale dawn-light came through the narrow window and, for the parts of him that were not under the covers (his arm, his head, one foot), it was fucking _cold_ too. He felt like a dog with a wet nose, his breath rising in a mist from where he lay. Without really thinking he rotated himself to pull the furs in tighter around himself – and Sansa's whole body rolled forward away from him and into the colder part of their pile of Northerners' bedding. Her groggy reaction was to quickly retreat towards him, her back smacking into his chest, her ass cupping his morning erection.

Apologetically, he reached around to stroke her face and she blinked hazily at him, coming to only a little as he kissed her... was it 'good morning'? She didn't taste of fruit any more, just of sleep, but he still liked it. She reached over to stroke his hair as he pressed her lips in a sensual circle. Sansa smiled at him. Yawned, Then _stretched._ Her arms reached above her head, her legs pushing against the floor in the most cat-like fashion he could think of. Her chest elongated, and Sandor found himself licking his lips. She pushed back hard against his crotch as she finished, and she shivered whilst a few of her bones popped mutely.

 Hugging her to him with one arm, Sansa used his other outstretched limb as a pillow. With a mischievous flash, he brought his cold hand up and cupped a breast – she jumped! He chortled in the back of his throat as she turned her head to look at him. He kissed her before she could admonish. Juvenile as it was. His cold nose pressed against her cheeks, so she gave it a peck, pulling the cover above their heads. Whilst it cocooned their top halves in something lovely and warm, Sandor found his legs quickly licked by the bitter air. Frustrated he brought his legs up, and Sansa laughed. One leg he had to bring up under hers, like a cradle, the other he brought onto the ball of the foot – knee to the sky.  
  
“Cold tits, cold toes.” She was still giggling and though he glowered at her, it was only half serious.

She cooed at him like he was a mardy child, smooching at him to come closer – and he did. Kissed her nicely at first, but then he brought the arm she was resting on round to restrict her throat. Turned those kisses into something harsh and hungry. She soon stopped laughing as he squeezed her tit. Her hands found his thighs, and her nails dug in. Her legs pulled up towards her chest instinctively, and it exposed her pussy to his prick, so he rubbed against it. When he pulled back he looked at her pointedly, then down between them just as pointedly. The grin he gave was dark when she licked her lips.  
  
“Wet your own cunt.” He growled, and after a swift wide lick of her fingers, her hand snapped southward to start the business like a soldier caught with his breeches down.

What a difference a night can make, he thought, as he watched her work vigorously against herself. It wasn't as practised as his, but it did the job better than her first try. He took her chin roughly in his hand and forced his tongue into her mouth as deep as he could, putting pressure on her throat again with his other arm. Whilst he did make her do most of the work alone, he kept stroking her lips with the ridges of his dick slowly – rocking his own pelvis forward and back in a steady rhythm. She whimpered, eventually, and he knew her flow had started. Her leg came up onto the ball of the foot, almost mimicking him.  
  
Releasing her airway, Sansa heaved a breath as the hand Sandor had had on her chin moved. He stroked along her ribs, rubbed down her hip, cupped round her ass, then found his way to her lips to feel for her progress. It would do. Taking himself in hand he pushed into her pussy in one fluid strong thrust.  
  
Her body shook out like she was stretching all over again, her breath coming out in a quiet “Haaaaaaa...” then panting back in like a dog after a hunt.  
  
He gripped her waist as he rolled back, and then forward into her – just as smoothly. His pace was relaxed and lazy, coming out almost entirely, then sliding back in in such a way that it made her elevated leg shake. She didn't rush him for her climax either; her eyes closed, she seemed to just be enjoying the sensation of him. Only when he wanted more, did he bring the arm from her throat out to pull at her hair, forcing her head back harshly.

He gnawed at her jugular and when he bottomed out, he ground in. With the slow and cruel rotation of his hips, her hand flew round to grip his ass - those damned nails smarted against his flesh as she dug in. He licked all the way from her collar bone to her ear as she moaned. He pulled out and smacked in twice in quick succession and her eyes fluttered, her head rolled. She was probably close if he wanted her to be.

Letting go of her hair, he pushed her leg up against her ribs, taking it firmly by the under side of the knee, criss-crossing her limb with his own. He had made plenty of space to pound, and play with her pussy, so he did. In and out he went, as his hand swept back and forth slowly at first... but when her hand bit down harder on his buttock he mounted a pace with his fingers so furious it could have started a fire.  
  
“You look at me, Little Bird.” He breathed into her ear and, he could tell it took effort, but she brought her head around to meet his eyes.

Her mouth hung ajar, and her eyes kept losing focus – sometimes she could see him and other times she was lost to her rising orgasm. She started smacking against his buttock in a flailing desperation when it finally hit. She clamped down around his cock in waves, and he licked his lips enjoying it.  
  
“Shiii-it” Her eyes had rolled, and he could almost have sworn she had drooled.  
  
Sandor pulled out of her, dropping her leg down, and rolled onto his back breathing heavily. Her body twitched all over as the last waves of her pleasure subsided. He stroked her spine with one hand, and himself with the other. He hadn't followed her over, but that didn't matter so much to him.  
  
Quicker than he honestly thought she would, Sansa roughly twisted round and chucked the furs off to the side. She looked at him. The cold hit him sharply, and goose-flesh crept across his entire body – as it did hers. Her eyes, lightning quick, took in his face, saw him pause in luxuriating himself and then came back to his face sharply.  
  
She scratched her way on top of him – took his dick in her hands and pushed him back inside of her so fast Sandor had almost yelped. Eyes closed, her back arched with some animalistic satisfaction as she spread her hips wide and ground down. He was _deeper_. He knew it. _How_ was he deeper? She shuddered and leaned back. Her eyes rolling open as her head fell, and he could almost see mist rising from her skin.  
  
“Uhhhhnnnnn”  
  
Clegane's hands came round to stroke her thighs when she launched herself forward over his chest and just started to ride him like she would a horse. Heavy and harsh, her thighs slapped against his hips. One of his hands took a breast as his mouth found her teat and he bit down. He felt her whole torso shiver. And her pace quickened to something he found furious. She was trying for _something_ , he just wasn't sure what, so he tried to help by bucking up into her but she just growled in frustration and sat back up roughly. The cold air putting his nipples to attention soon after.  
  
She scraped her hair back from her face as she circled her hips over and over, widening her thighs once more, not finding whatever it was she was looking for. She leaned left, she leaned right, revolving her cunt on the hunt for a sensation. Then she leaned back, hands against Sandor's knees and choked on whatever it was she found in the grind and whatever _it_ was, it made her pussy _flutter_.

The woman nodded to herself, closing her eyes and testing the waters by lifting herself up out of the kneel, and dropping herself back down roughly. Sandor's head rolled as her _entire_ pussy _wobbled_ . Whatever she had found, it was going to _kill_ him-  
  
She rose. She dropped. The cunt thanked her. It thanked _him_ . She rolled her hips and whimpered. Sandor pulled her harshly forward, pussy crushing onto his dick and driving him higher, and her eyes flew open. Was that pain or pleasure? He couldn't place it, but he braced his feet and bucked up for her in this new position and she started to throttle herself at the sensation. He did it again, and in a breathy exaltation she leaned back so impossibly far. Her thighs were shaking from the strain of it. He sat up some, but not enough to change whatever angle she had found for herself on him, and continued to buck.  
  
He brought a hand to her pelvis, and the other to her ass, because her legs wouldn't work in this position so he would have to pivot her hips for her. He worked her with a maddeningly slow rhythm by his hands, and bucked a steady one with his cock. Her pussy clenched and fluttered, with every bottoming out. He was hitting _something_ deep and _incredible,_ and every time he did he watched her throat close up and felt his own cock being suckled. Sansa's hand came to grip his one at her pubes and she used the torque to help her grind. Sandor felt his climax verging all of a sudden, his eyes spotting up as his crotch seemed to pull and vibrate. He honestly didn't want to end without her but he was losing restraint for his cock.  
  
“Sansa-”  
  
“Fucking fill me.” She snarled, her pussy responding to his suddenly uncontrollable pumping by somehow, _somehow_ taking him in even deeper, “I'm- I'm gonna come-”

And she _did_. And it wasn't like any of the others ones. It didn't _start_ in her stomach or her thighs, it just _happened_. And it happened _everywhere_. Her entire body exploded with something indescribable, and her pussy clamped down so hard around him Sandor went blind. His cock released everything in one hard, long burst, her cunt milked it from him for what felt like minutes. It _was_ minutes. She groaned loud and husky until her body unexpectedly went limp. Her pussy kept spasming around his flaccid cock for an eternity. When it finally stopped, Sandor let himself fall out and... she didn't move. Rising onto his elbows he saw her eyes were open, but it was evident nobody was home - she was unconscious.  
  
“Did you fucking faint?!” He barked a laugh, pulling her out of the ungodly uncomfortable position she had fallen in, to lie on the furs properly.  
  
Smacking her cheeks lightly, at long last she blinked and coughed.  
  
“Are you alright?” He couldn't help it, he fucking chortled.  
  
She looked confused for a moment, working her jaw, “I dink I bid my dongue.”

Sandor belly laughed like he hadn't since he was a child.

 

 


End file.
